Porcelain Cracks
by crackalou
Summary: Hinata's love for Naruto is brought to a screeching halt. KibaHina fluff slight NaruSaku


**Disclaimer:** Naruto and its characters are strictly copyrighted Kishimoto Masahi

Features KibaHina with some NaruSaku. If you don't like it, then don't read it.  
Rated teen for subtle sexual references, cursing and swearing, and eventual nudity (which I won't be going into detail of to keep the rating where it is).

**Title:** _Porcelain Cracks_  
**Summary:**_ Hinata's love for Naruto is brought to a screeching halt, and it seems Kiba is the only one who can save her. KibaHina fluff; slight NaruSaku  
_**Genre:**_ Romance, hurt/comfort  
_**Rating: **_PG-13 (Teen) __  
_**Word Count: **_Current approximately 7,000; ending result unknown_

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Approaching slowly behind the tree, the young teenager leans against its trunk, her cheek caressing the rough brown texture. In front of her, not even 20 feet away, sits a boy about her age swinging, a look of anguish gracing his usually vivacious face, his dazzling sapphire blue eyes unhurriedly blink back a poignancy that seems so unlike him. In a steady, lethargic movement the boy swings back and forth, mumbling and rambling about the same thing, occasionally slapping himself on the head.

Mutely, she goes over the dilemma in her head, brushing her short hair back and closing her alluring eyes, contemplating whether she should go over and speak with him or not. She hesitates, like she has every other specially unplanned occasion she's randomly met him in the evening, but this time it's different. A single flashback of a piece of parchment with an all-too familiar writing hardly even readable- probably from his quivering hand as he attempted to write the letter- sends her to chills, and her heart begins to race faster and faster as she attempts to force herself forward, her dark sandals hardly making a sound in the soft green grass.

Why is she so nervous? It's not like he had anything new to speak to her about... She knew all too well his feelings for her.

As she advances on his unsuspecting form, she reaches her hand out to him, realization dawning on her just how anxious, how tense he really is, and she becomes a bit uneasy herself. What if something happened to-?

_No, don't be silly, Sakura,_ she tells herself, finally gathering all the courage such a person could gather and tapping the boy clad in orange lightly on the shoulder.

Apparently, it wasn't lightly enough: Her finger barely even touched the thick fabric of his coat, but he still managed to jump from fright, and turned around like a poor kitten being teased with a ball of yarn.

"S-Sakura-chan," He stutters, taking an awkward unbalanced step backward.

"Naruto," she gives him a slight nod, her hands clutching the heart of her sleeveless top, a heartwarming smile gracing her lips.

Summery pastel hair is pushed back as she eventually feels herself becoming just as apprehensive as her hardly intolerable teammate. She wrings her fingers together, shifting her feet back and forth uneasily, her few bangs falling back into place in her face. Her jade eyes flicker to his cobalt ones, but before she finds herself lost in a state of a reverie, he falls over.

She blinks before she erupts into laughter at the sight, her timid demeanor quickly vanishing to the same self-confident lively girl the both of them know so well. In an instant, he is laughing, too, though his is more forced; so very unusual of him.

"Naruto," she chuckles in amusement reaching over to help him up, "you're such a ditz."

The young man grins up at her sheepishly, releasing all his breath in one fell swoop as he clutches onto her hand to be pulled up. But something happens, and she releases him quickly, and he drops back onto the soft lush grass next to the swing, and everything goes back to the way it was before. Her eyes widen with humiliation and her cheeks flush a pink to match her hair.

"I'm so sorry, Naruto," she cries and drops to her knees next to him for a reason neither one of them can figure out.

But it doesn't matter, because she tries again. She reaches out to him, and he does her. And for the first time, they're able to fully comprehend the complicated feelings the both of them had been troubled with since the beginning of the old Team 7. And then she freaks at the contact again, but he pulls her in before she can pull away again and embraces her securely into the warmth of his chest and, much to both their gratification, she only strengthens the meaning and gingerly wraps her arms around him as well.

For a split second, each wonders about the feeling of a first kiss; to be lost in the pure bliss of an innocence unfolding into something so much more.

* * *

She saunters silently, pulling on her jacket tightly to keep warm from the rising frigid night air, and watches as her two team mates walk ahead of her, a remarkably large dog wagging his white fluffy tail next to his master. Both boys speak in hushed tones, afraid of disturbing any of the young couples prowling the evening streets, afraid of being beaten if they ruined a perfectly happy moment. 

"Hinata."

When she hears her name, she lifts her white eyes to meet the gaze of dark beady ones, a round smile showing four matching canines. His leans in closer to her face, his grin never fading from sight as he runs a set of clawed fingers through his unruly kept brown hair. She takes a step back, her eyes wide with puzzlement, but when he pulls back and begins to laugh, she is overcome with relief, a light pink slithering its way on her cream colored cheeks. As both men and their snow white companion begin to continue walking, she does as well, but is brought to a hardly graceful stop when she bumps into one of them.

"I-I'm sorry," she stutters shyly, covering her pale lips with two beautifully crafted blended hands. He begins to laugh again, this time more loudly, causing coupled passersby to give him annoyed glances, but no one does anything to prevent him from continuing.

"Hinata," the other begins, his raven black eyebrows knitting as he pulls his hood from overtop his head, fixing to take his black-shaded glasses off, but decides against it, and reaches for his female friend's shoulder, turning her to him, "Why do you always linger behind?"

"Shino and I have decided," the other cuts in, rubbing his red triangular marked cheek with his thumb. "The reason you're so ..." He pauses and looks around in search for the proper word to describe her. "The reason, we've decided, you're so..."

The shy girl remains silent as her good friend continues to search his mind for the correct phrase to describe her, and sighs when he realizes his failed attempt. She finishes for him. "Weird."

Both of them exchange glances, but he shakes and scratches his head. "No, that's not the word I'm looking for! I mean, sure, fainting in front of the same guy every time you see him has got to be a little- uh-"

"A little distracted, are we?" Both teenagers turn their attention to Shino as he stuffs his hands in his oversized jacket's pockets.

"Shino-kun," Hinata begins, her white eyes reflecting the child hidden within her, "What do you mean?"

But Shino's only response is silence, and he gives a barely audible gruff of "Sooner or later..." and he walks off, leaving both of his team mates behind.

Hinata watches Shino's disappearance act as he turns a corner, and she turns back around, brushing a pale hand through her dark violet locks. She raises her fair eyes to the overgrown dog and pats him tenderly on the snout, going so far as to even wrap her arms around his giant neck and nuzzle her face into his snow white fur. Behind her, the remaining mate smiles, noting the significant change of mood of his dog, and walks up to both of them. As she pulls away to scratch behind his dog's ears, he grabs her from under her arms and hoists her onto the dog's back.

"Hinata," he says, patting his dog on the shoulder, "you're not weird."

"If I'm not weird, then I'm a fai-"

"No, you aren't!"

His growl surprises her and, for a moment, her gaze meets his. The look in his eyes frightens her a bit, as his temper has been known to be dangerous. Frustration lined with disappointment graces his features properly, actually giving him the look a wise man. He turns around suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest, mumbling incoherent things. She stares at the back of his head quietly, taking the notice of how unruly and unkempt his hair is.

It's really rather cute to her. It reminds her of his dog's fur. She reaches out to run her fingers through it, but he spins back around to face her, and she jumps back (quite literally) and she slides off her place on the dog she once sat on comfortably. She gives a shriek as she lands on the hard pavement.

"H-Hinata?!" It doesn't even take him a second before he's at her side, helping her up. "Are you alright?" She bobs her head up and down slowly. He releases a low sigh of relief and a grin spreads across his face rather quickly lost in a phase of chuckling.

Hinata's face flushes with color as she grasps hold of his hand and he helps her back onto her feet. Whether it's from humiliation or the contact of skin, she isn't able to verify and, knowing this, her cheeks color even more. It's hard to tell if he notices or not, but he _does_ advert his attention to his dog. She's ultimately relieved, though, and smiles cutely as she reaches out and runs her fingers through that special, unkempt hair.

An awkward silence ensues as he glances at her hand tangled in his dog's fur; rubbing, massaging, stroking... He gives his dog an envious look, scoffing at the sight and steps away.

Hinata blinks at her teammate's abandonment quizzically, her pasty light eyes studying attentively, though remaining the same habitual shyness she's become accustomed to gracing him with for the past three and a half years. She steps back also, considering her team mate's fondness for growling and, without giving any sort of warning, she giggles.

It is an attractive, petite, on-the-verge-of-womanhood - a sweet sounding penetration to the ears. Amusement clearly voices its presence in the quietness of her laughter. The reasoning behind releasing it is a mystery to him, but he likes it; he doesn't want it to stop.

And it doesn't. It continues for many more minutes, in fact, in which she bundles over, clutching at her tummy and grasping for breath and resting her free hand on her knee. But it doesn't stop there: When she finally feels like she can stop laughing, she straightens, steals a glance at her friend, and then erupts like a volcano once again in her insistently gracious laughter, so much louder than before.

And it's like music to his ears.

He's never heard her voice her opinion so clearly before, so… stridently before. And it makes him oh-too pleased to know that he was the one who initiated it. And soon, his face breaks into a fanged grin and he begins laughing with mirth as well, though it's for an entirely different reason.

And as this laughter continues between the two, the boy's dog begins to walk off from the lack of attention he now receives. Neither seems to notice, much too engrossed in their own amusement to care.

When he manages to stop laughing, her barks are left to stifled giggles: A delicate hand masks her delightful lips, the wonderment of her humble eyes hidden behind closed eyelids that leak with tears. It's a mesmerizing sight for him, and he finds himself subconsciously reaching out to her, brushing a finger swiftly across the shortness of her dark purple bangs. He regrets it, though, when the hilarity of the situation- whatever it may be- evaporates and she stops abruptly, blinking open her pretty eyes in bewilderment.

But when her gaze meets his, the intensity in his dark eyes makes her flush cherry and she adverts them intentionally to find the big white fluff she had come to adore. Unfortunately for her, the snowball had trotted down to the woodsy part of the Academy and is now lying quite comfortably under the warmth it has to offer. She has no way of diverting _his_ attention now anymore.

"What was so funny, Hinata?"

She goes stiff at his question, much too embarrassed to tell him, because it's such a silly reason to just break down into fits of giggles over. Just thinking about how badly she overreacted to hearing him growl taints her porcelain cheeks red with a furious blush. But she soon realizes that remaining silent or pretending to not know what it is he asks about is futile- the poor man is much too persistent, to her liking- and she eventually gives in.

"You growl a lot," she finally replies, strolling quite carefully over to the ball of fur.

"Oh," He can't help but hide the disappointment in his voice, nor can he help the sad narrowing of his eyes at her explanation. "That's it?"

She giggles girlishly as she shakes her head and holds her fist up against her lips to try and stifle her amusement, her cheeks growing in color from either too much hilarity or embarrassment- though, quite possibly both.

"It's cute."

She continues her gay gait ahead of him, but he stops dead in his tracks. If she were the self-confident type, she would have stolen a glance at him. But, sadly, she wasn't that type of girl, and she was still flustered over her little confession; afraid that she had said something a little too… snug; even if they were teammates and friends, they weren't necessarily _that_ close. But soon, the sound of his footsteps fall back into place and she smiles to herself in contentment, though it falters a bit when he voices his outtake on her words.

"_Cute?_" The obvious disappointment drips with the sarcasm that just leaks from his tone as he gives her an incredulous look. "Are you _serious_? Out of _all_ the things you could describe my growling as, it's '_cute_'?"

She, of course, doesn't have the heart to respond. She hadn't thought about how _he_ would respond to the over-stereotypical feminine word at all, but it amuses her greatly nonetheless.

"Would you have preferred I said—"

"Sexy? Domineering? Hot?" he finishes for her, giving the disturbing image of a young man wracking and pulling at his hair. "Hell yes!"

"—adorable?" She continues on, completely ignoring his interruption. "Or perhaps… '_dainty_'?" She can't help but snicker in delight at the sneer she receives when she chances a look, coupled by another growl. The conversation ends there, though, as they reach the overgrown canine.

She drops courteously; he throws himself on his furry companion. She sits timidly on her legs; he with his legs sprawled. She folds her hands neatly in her lap; his are splayed quite carelessly in his hair and on his crotch. Even so, the mood set between the two contradictions is quite lovely and comfortable, but at the same time timid and rough- which more than likely makes little to _no_ sense to anyone else but the potential couple that sit together under a tree with a snow-white dog.

But the sound of snickering breaks this comfort of security, and the three (dog included) turn their attention to the sounds. Not far from them, lies the Academy for aspiring ninja, the very same that they had attended three years ago; and as they sneak up to the bushy hedge that prevents them from a proper view of the school and sneak their heads over to clarify their otherwise obscure vision of the scene, everything shatters: Dimmed pink and shocking blonde.

Eyes widen in astonishment, disbelief, grief, and horror as the sight of the two teammates tangled in one another's arms becomes clear in vision. One wants to shriek and run for her life- as if her life depended on it- the other wants to spring forth and beat the blonde shitless; neither, though, do anything to act upon their impulses.

However, she's shaking, trembling; her taintless eyes are watering from the blow, and she collapses onto her knees, her face brushing into the rough branches and thorns of the bush they lean against. He barely has the mind to catch her before she lands another blow to herself- a _physical_ one- and when he does; her cheeks are flushed and raw from her own self-pity and little scratches. He wraps his arms instinctively around her frail shoulders and takes off running, not bothering to care if his lifelong friend is at his heels.

As soon he found her in the comfort of her own home- her own room- he released her and placed her on the bed. The problem was, she didn't want to let go; she clutched to him for dear life, tears protruding from her eyes in thick, salty drops. The family of the head house of the Hyuuga clan sent him merciless glares (with the exception of the youngest and most- dare he think? - sensible of the three), demanding silently why their heiress was in such terrible condition and he dare to show his face. But, much to his relief, Neji had shown his face, and within one glance into his all-seeing eyes, he hindered anymore doubts or accusations sent in anyone's way.

Now, he sits, on her bed. She still clutches the material of his grey coat- now sopping wet with tears- dearly, even as she sleeps. As much as he would love to think that she looks like an angel, he can't; her face is contorted with unspoken anguish and torture, and he doesn't know how to make her feel better.

He gulps down the lump that forms in his throat as he shakily strokes her head of soft dark hair. He tries to ignore the somersaults his stomach seems to make, being so close to her, and in her room no less. He tries to reassure her as she sleeps that it must all have been a misunderstanding; the two weren't kissing, it was merely a sensual embrace. But he knows he isn't fooling anyone, especially her; even though she seemed naïve, she was never gullible. She was withdrawn and timid, yes, but never, _never_ gullible.

When she finally seemed to relax, she released her vice grip on him and sunk tenderly onto the softness of her bed. He notices immediately, and feels instant relief sweep over him as he withdraws all his breath in one '_whoosh_', swiping his fingers gently in attempt to smooth out the roughness of her dried bangs. He wants to pull away from her, to tuck her under the comfort and warmth of the blankets and quilt of her bed. But realization soon dawns on him that he can't even pull his gaze away from the soft porcelain features of her face. He wants to pull her into his arms again, in fact, and kiss the cute crown of the top of her head and hug her like he had glimpsed the oaf Naruto doing with Sakura.

The mere thought of the other boy infuriates him, though, and all other thoughts are thrown into the bin as the memory comes back to him. Unconsciously, he clenches his fists and bares the sharpness of his teeth into a nasty snarl. The bastard had enough sense to ditch what was so clearly in front of him! How could _anyone_ in their right mind be so stupid?! He always knew the object of his current outrage was stupid, but he never (though he hated to admit it), _ever_, thought him to be so thoughtless. How could he not have seen?

In attempt to quell his thoughts he turns his gaze back to the girl who now lies peacefully unconscious and finds that he is gripping the flawless texture of her beautifully crafted hand. He rolls his clawed thumb over the smoothness of her skin; glad to see the muscles in her face and body relax even more. But he doesn't pull his hand away from hers, rather, grips it more firmly.

She was always so nice, to everyone, even the one no one else seemed to care for. She always treated her team mates; she became a medic-nin over the two years Naruto was away, though… she hadn't really received direct training from the Hokage Tsunade herself, so she probably wasn't quite as good as Sakura. But the desire to help _him_, along with the rest of her friends, is what led to her sudden surge of strength: Not only was she a fairly decent medic, but she had mastered her _own_ style of the Hyuuga clan's original Gentle Fist, able to manipulate its shape, and she had grown far more agile, too. Needless to say, it was obvious she had grown in more ways than one (physical assets included), and he was damn irritated that she had set her sights and hopes so high for such a God damned idiot.

Wasn't it obvious to the bloke what he meant to her? Apparently not; the kid was as mental and thoughtless as a thorn.

He sighs heavily, not bothering to look up as the door to her creaks open and her little sister leans against the wall next to it. She watches him, carefully observing every move he makes; ever gentle touch and caress; every glance he sends to her, all along a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He can just smell the chuckles she wants to release thick in the air, protruding from her small body, but he doesn't make a move to do anything. This only seems to amuse her even more.

"Do you love my sister?"

He doesn't even spare the girl a glance, doesn't even bother answering her as he watches the other girl's form stir, but he does take the time to release his hold on her hand. He tries to push the idea of how upset he is with himself at the lack of warmth and the disappointment of letting it go; it had felt so right when he held it.

Hinata opens her eyes slowly, blinking furiously at the light that seeps through the half-open door allows into her room. Begrudgingly, she sits up as well, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand (in which he can't help but grin at- she really _is_ cute, even when she's diagnosed with a pretty bad case of pillow-tear-soaked-head hair). Her eyes finally adjusting to the little light left in her room she looks around. For a moment, both their eyes meet, then she adverts her gaze to look at her younger sister.

"Hanabi-chan," she asks quietly, her voice already faded to its usual soft spoken timidity.

Hanabi responds instantly. "I'll go tell mother and father you're awake." She gives the young man sitting on the bed of her sister's another studious look before she disappears. He finds himself glowering after her, feeling neither relief nor resentment for summoning her parents. He just doesn't like the look he gives her, and she seems to know it, too.

Hinata sees the look on his face and gently covers his hand with one of her own. "She means well," she says, forcing a smile to grace her features. It doesn't fool him, though, he can tell as he stares into her eyes that it's a fake, but doesn't say anything as her parents clamor through the door to her room.

At once, her name is called out in two different sets of voices, and the glower the man who had brought her home receives a look of indignation and fury. He gets up to leave, but she wraps a set of carefully cared for fingers around his bicep. He stops and gives her a concerned look. From the one he receives in return, it tells him she doesn't want him to leave. He gives in easily and sighs plopping his cute little butt back onto the heavily sheeted bed. He can't help but cower slightly at the stern look her father sends to him. But there's nothing he can do about it; she wanted him to stay, and stay he will.

Finally, her father turns on his daughter, demanding to know what happened. She however, remains quiet, shaking her head solemnly as she stares at her hands. Briefly, maybe in a way of somehow relaxing them, the two friends are reminded of similar situations in movies. Neither knows what the other is thinking, but a small smile graces hers and vague grin crosses his face. Of course, her parents both see this and assume the worst, and anger over boils her old man as he points an accusing finger at her companion.

"You slept with my daughter!"

Both of them jump up at the accusation. His face turns a shade of beet red, her expression twists into mild disbelief and she jumps to his defense rather quickly.

"He would _never_ do anything like that!"

Everyone turns their faces to her in an instant. The defiance in both voice and gracing her face surprises all of them; when had been the last time she had denied something so… like _that_?

She senses their doubt; her father still sends him conniving glances and her mother looks disappointed as she stares at her, but she doesn't give in. She, herself, is incredibly disappointed for not trusting the one whom she would trust her very own life to; upset at the fact that they didn't trust her, either. So, she gives them all a pointed look, though what she says next doesn't make things better. But she could be delusional for all she knew, after what she had seen. At the memory, she can feel the tears sting in her eyes as her humble eyes grow stern as she stares at her hands.

"It was a mistake, I-" she doesn't bother finishing; she doesn't want to. She always knew how her parents had felt about her infatuation with the shunned boy; they disapproved of the idea greatly. Not because she was the heiress to her clan, but because of another reason… a reason she could proudly say on his behalf was nothing to be ashamed of. She drew a shuddery breath and raised her eyes to her friend's bewildered face. "It doesn't matter," she continues to stare at him, "I knew it would happen eventually."

But her words are all a lie. They both know it: It _isn't_ alright. But on her behalf, he doesn't say anything. "Is it alright," she adds, her voice growing softer with each syllable, "I would like for him to stay."

Both her parents begin to protest at once, but another chides in, his voice ringing above both of theirs. "It would seem sensible, since he's the only one you seem to really want to speak with."

The unmistakable voice and figure stands in the doorway. It is quite sad, really, what kind of power the sixteen-year-old seemed to possess over the Hyuuga clan's own head honcho. He frightened her at many times, but gradually, after his battle with Naruto during the Chuunin Exam, he came to change a little over the years, loosening that ill-feeling penetration of his eyes and any other superiority complex he seemed to possess. He was much friendlier than he used to be, if at all, and she felt compelled to grace him with a grateful smile as soon as her father changed his mind. He acknowledged her simple gesture with a curt nod.

And soon, they brought out an extra matt for him. Unfortunately, his dog would have to stay outside, but that doesn't seem to matter to him much as he watches the object of his affection crawl into bed in a pair of fresh light blue pajamas. She is turned over to him so that they are face-to-face, draping her arm over the side of her bed, dangling closely to his ear. He takes it without question.

It is now, after she had cried herself to sleep, that he lies, wide awake, in the darkness. With a firm grip of her hand, he tucks the other behind his head, staring at the wonder that is her half-hidden face.

He vows to himself that he'll do anything to protect her- he'll do anything for her if she asks it of him; he doesn't have a doubt in his mind. He's also made sure to make an oath- a "promise of a lifetime"- to beat the lights out of the one who doesn't notice what's right in front of him, and he grips her hand a little tighter, as if to assure her sleeping form that he will fulfill both of his new-life duties.

He doesn't even realize that he's fallen asleep until he's awoken by the ruffling of sheets and the creaking of a bed. He growls, thinking someone's trying to pull him back out of bed for classes or training and rolls over on his stomach to bury his head in the soft comfort of a futon's pillow. It's an everyday occurrence for his family, their dogs, his dog, and anyone else happening to live or stay the night under the same roof: He's a lazy and a not-so-nice morning person. The majority of the time, he's bitten and dragged out from under his blankets and off his bed by his friendly pup and sister, so he's completely taken aback when a small hand gently shakes him by the shoulder. And it's then that he realizes where he is.

So, he forces himself over onto his back and meets the gaze of a beautiful enchantress with eyes so pure it's hard _not_ to fall in love with her. He grins up at her sleepily, and she returns the smile, though more hesitantly and forced. He leaves the room to allow her to change and is forced to breakfast by the rest of her family.

As he eats, the mood is thick with tension, and he's incredibly nervous. He's the only one not in pajama, having slept in his usual daily attire for vacation. It makes him uneasy, and he's beginning to think that his friend's family considers him the same filth as anyone else, with the glances sent his way by her father. It doesn't hurt him like it enrages him. But he doesn't complain; it would be ungrateful, considering they let him stay the night.

Hinata scurries down the stairs of her head family's complex, lost in a state of hurrying. He can't help but watch her (fully dressed, mind you, a great relief to him) as she sits down daintily and shovels her breakfast in an adequate gulp. When she looks up, he notices she has a smile plastered on her face. But it doesn't drain away the flushed color of her cheeks, or dry her eyelashes tearless. He smiles back anyway, though, because it's time for their leave. He, too, inhales the rest of his breakfast and stands, making sure to give her family bow of thanks and the two leave without so much as a "goodbye".

As soon as he reaches outside, she closes the door behind him. Neither says a word as they walk out of the clan district and to another. It's awkward to an extent, especially when he tries to make small talk and she responds halfheartedly with an "hmm". After his ninth try, he lowers his head in defeat, allowing the rest of their morning walk to continue in silence.

He doesn't like it, and he has the inkling of a feeling that she doesn't either as he watches her intently out of the corner of his beady little eye. It's obvious she wants to speak; she _wants_ to release her heavy burden, but she's stubborn and refuses to lighten her load. She's always been like that, ever since she was still a genin.

He knew all along of how she practiced longer than him or Shino. He knows how difficult it is for her to earn the respect of her father. No, she never told him, but he just _knew_. He could smell it like horseradish. It wasn't a very pleasant smell, and it irritated him every time she would brush him aside and tell him everything was alright, even though it clearly wasn't. He's always wanted his team to work together and act like one, but they were all selfish to an extent and – no matter how powerful each of them individually were – they were never able to accomplish the task. But now, he wants that to change.

He wants to be more than a teammate or a friend. He wants to be someone she can trust in, someone to confide in, when things are looking glum for her. He wants to be the one whom she leans on when she ever feels like crying or to jump on whenever she has exciting news. He wants to be _The One_.

And he decides, it would seem, that now is the perfect time to break the suggestion to her as subtly as possible. With a sigh, he runs a clawed hand through his unruly dark brown hair and stops. It takes a couple more steps before she realizes he's no longer with her, and she stops as well, passing a glance over her shoulder quizzically. When he looks up, both their gazes meet, and he's finding confession to be much more difficult than originally believed. Secretly, he curses the inconvenience of it all.

He sighs again, though it's more like a yawn, and stretches his arms way overtop his head, arching his back with a few pops in the process. He notices that she's turned her body fully around to face him, and finds a glint of amusement in twinkling distantly in her clear eyes. He can feel his eye twitching from her scrutiny and continues his gait, briskly passing her without another glance, his white canine companion hot on his heels. She scurries after him.

It didn't take much longer before they reach his clan's district, and he announces his return home with a gracious, but all-too weird (to Hinata, at least), howl as he throws the front door open and stomps inside. As soon as he does, however, he's promptly thrown back with a quick punch and a scolding.

"And where the hell were you, mister?"

The young man grins sheepishly as he sits up, rubbing his tender nose carefully. He doesn't know if he should let anyone else know about his team mate's personal matters, and he knows that if he says, "I was with Hinata" that someone was bound to get the wrong idea, but he didn't think things through carefully enough as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the Hyuuga heiress. His mother shrieks and in a matter of seconds is pummeling him to a pulp.

"You god damn _idiot_," she screams as she slaps him and pounds her fist into his broad shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking? Do you have _any_ idea how much you've disgraced our – as well as her – family?! What's going to happen if she's pregnant?!"

He screams a muffled response, his cheeks burning with embarrassment at his mother's assumption and jumps up quickly. "It wasn't like that, I swear!"

His mother, about to jump on him for another round of punishment, stops herself as she stares at her son. Wordlessly, she turns her gaze to the girl behind him, her eyes wide with denial, her mouth covered by her hands. It would seem that her cheeks also colored from the woman's accusation.

So, his mother sighs and backs off, swiping a hand through the same unkempt hair he inherited as she narrowed her gaze on her son with a menacing glare. "Mind explaining what happened, then?"

The boy grimaces slightly and takes a step back. He steals a glance at the girl behind him. She doesn't seem to really care; she nods her head in the affirmative. He turns his attention back to his mother, a sullen feeling sinking in the pit of his stomach. Why is _he_ the one who has to explain? Why can't she jump in and defend him? He knows the thoughts are silly and meaningless, but he can't help but wish she would help at least a little.

"Something…" his voice trailed off as he thought about his next words. They would need to be chosen carefully, but vague at the same time. This really wasn't any of his mother's business, after all. "Well, Hinata and I went for a walk and then something… just kind of _happened_." He glances at his mother, shrinks back a bit and clasps his hands behind his back like a little boy and stares down at the foot that digs his sandal into the ground uncomfortably. "I… couldn't just leave her, Mom…"

He chances another glance up at the woman who brought him into the world and has to jump back to avoid her onslaught of… _hugs_.

"My little boy is growing up," she exclaims, taking the chance for another pounce of a hug. He avoids it again, but she doesn't really mind; she actually expects it of him, and she's not really trying all that hard anyway.

The situation only becomes more awkward when Hinata clears her throat timidly, clasping her hands in front of her. Her cheeks are blazing red as she stares at her sandal covered feet. He turns and his mother stops attempting to embarrass him with more attempted hugs and kisses.

"E-excuse me, Mrs. Inuzuka," she stutters shyly, hardly able to resist the urge of pressing her fingers together, an old habit out of nervousness. "W-we have somewhere t-to be, ma…am."

Everything goes oddly silent as his mother straightens. She stares at her son's companion for quite some time, her lips twitching into a slight frown. Hinata feels compelled to keep her eyes locked on the dirt, afraid to meet the gaze of the frightening-looking woman. Realizing her gaze will not be met, the woman sighs and grips her hip with a hand as she stares at the girl eagerly.

"Please, Hinata," she says at last, her lips curving into back into a pleasing smile, "call me Tsume."

Hinata's breath catches in her throat and her eyes shoot up in instant recognition of the woman's request. Her cheeks burn, but even so, she can't help but smile back at the bizarre woman. "A-alright… Tsume." The name stumbles from her lips in a regrettably slow way and is hardly audible for even _his_ ears, however, she still says it and it apparently means a lot to Tsume.

"Thata girl," Tsume grins.

And very soon afterward, all three enter the humble abode of one of the finest families in the Inuzuka clan. Not surprisingly, it's very well decorated, similarly to Hinata's. The major difference that she could live without (and which she relatively does, for that matter) is the steady stench of canine breath and fur. She smiles and waves to her companion, but as soon as he is gone, must force the gag that threatens to erupt and excuse herself to wait outside.

So, here she sits; on the front "porch" of the first home she's ever been in other than her own. She watches with mild intrigue as ninja and canine friends whiz past her in an early morning walk or exchange a series of successful stunts in attempt to strengthen their bond and power.

She frowns at the sight, her eyes glazed with envy and taking on a slightly darker color than the white she was born with. She wanted to do such things with Naruto-kun. She wanted to be able to help him to train so he could become stronger. _She_ wanted take early morning walks with him and to help heal him when he was injured.

She sighs heavily. She knew it would never work out, but that didn't keep her from hoping. Naruto-kun was, is,… a moron, really; he never paid any attention to anyone else but Sakura-_chan_: He was always saving _Sakura_; flirting with _Sakura_; laughing with _Sakura_; working with _Sakura_.

Hinata whimpers and buries her face in the palms of her hands in attempt to keep herself from crying. She hates acting like this; like a jealous ex-girlfriend. Acting to vulnerable over such trivial matters as a boy. She should be stronger and stick up for herself, she knows, but… Telling herself such and pulling through to get it done are two completely different matters now.

Naruto-kun was always her excuse for working hard; for never giving up. But, now to tell herself to live her own way of the ninja and "never go back" on her words fills her with a meaningless and empty feeling. It was Naruto-kun that encouraged her to work harder, to push herself and become the person she is today. It was Naruto-kun's courage and stubbornness that she looked up to. It was _Naruto_ that she fell in love with.

So, she didn't understand. How could it have happened? It was _she_ who always cheered him up; _she_ who knew all about his struggles; _she_ who acknowledged him and treated him like a real person…

She finally breaks down and is reduced to sniffling tears.

_It just isn't fair_, she thinks bitterly.

* * *

**A/N:** This was originally meant to be a one-shot, but as it gradually grew in size, I decided to turn it into a two-shot. I have hopes of making the next part as fluff-tastic as possible. I really love fluff.  
Anyway, Kiba is a little bit OC, but that's only because we've never really been given much of a glimpse of his mind in the anime or the manga. So, I decided to take advantage of that. Hopefully this isn't a completely boring read to any of you who have read it through to the end of this first part. I had a lot of fun writing this (even if it was hell); I made sure to put extra care in the details (even though it all but disperesed as the story progressed), and I really liked how I managed to keep everything relatively slow-paced (or so I like to think).  
If you made it this far, please review. It would really mean a lot to me... :) I like knowing how people think of my stuff, even if it isn't a particularly pleasant thought; it normally encourages me to write more. 

Oh, and before I forget, I'd like to sincerely thank you for taking the time to read. 3 So, thank you.


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